Death Note: B's Note
by Kitsune-no-Tenshi
Summary: B's thoughts on the man who inspires him. Rated for a suggestive paragraph, just to be safe.


AN: Wow. I forgot I wrote this. And I can't believe it's another B drabble! I must be on a B kick. Here, I try to get inside his head.

--

I have a dream. Someone famous once said that, but I'm not concerned with him. There is only room for one hero in my life. There is only room for one, because he is all-encompassing. He is everything I want to become. And they tell me that it just might happen.

How many people can lay claim to that? How many people can say that they will become the person they idolize? I am closer than all of them. I will step over all of them. I will allow nothing to stand in my way.

On another note, this serves as a kind of diary; a place to record my thoughts. But no one will ever share these thoughts; see these words, because I am only thinking them. They gave me a handsomely bound journal and a new fountain pen, and encouraged me to write my thoughts, my dreams, aspirations, tribulations, and what-have-you. I'm too smart for them. If they think that I don't know that they would read everything that I'd written, they think me far too naïve. Of course they would read it. Analyze it. Analyze me. I won't give them any weapons to use against me. No. My thoughts are too private, my dreams too large.

I won't even write what the weather was like from day to day, for fear that they would scrutinize even my handwriting in a vain attempt to understand me. I will give them no windows to gaze inwards to my soul.

They, on the other hand, have provided me with plenty of insights into the way they-and _he_­-function. They praise me constantly; tell me how much I even _look_ like him. Though that is an area outside of my control, I cannot help but feel a sort of pride, as if this is something I accomplished on purpose, rather than an accident of nature. They tell me how well I score on all the tests that they administer, and draw parallels between us. They say how much we think alike, and that surely he will choose me as his successor.

I don't plan to succeed him. I plan to become him. He is their golden boy. Their trump card. I will be their ace in the hole. I will be more of him than he is. (That sentence made sense to me inside my head; if I had written it as they intended, I wonder if it would follow.)

Every day I become closer to him. They are grooming me to become him. I will move forward faster than he, to close the gap between us. They are trying to make copies of him. What they don't realize is that I will be so much more than a mere copy. When we stand side by side, he will pale beside me. I will no longer be in his shadow. We will trade places. He will chase after _me_. I am smarter than him; I know it. But until I prove myself, I must be content to wait.

I think of him, sometimes, at night. I wonder in what part of the world he is. I wonder if he is solving cases, or if he is awake and staring at the ceiling as I am. I wonder if he is thinking about me, and the others they are training. Does he look over his shoulder? Does he, perhaps, fear me? Fear to be overthrown, usurped? Does he worry? Sometimes, as I think these thoughts, watching the moonlight play behind my blinds, my hand strays to the waist of my pants, and I feel a strange stirring. This is the part of me, I think, that knows most strongly that I will overtake him. It is a feral feeling, visceral, and I always feel energized when this part of me wakes.

But when the sun burns away the clouds of the night, I go back to waiting. I cannot stand this waiting. If I could make something happen by willing it, I would. Anything would be better than this limbo of tests and uncertainty.

There are others, as I mentioned, who they wish to be able to succeed him. I am their second choice, merely because they found me after they had already picked out the first. I don't think he is anything special. Smart, perhaps, but I can't see him making intuitive leaps. He's a nervous person, too. I don't think he will be able to handle the pressure. In fact, perhaps I will mention to him how much unnecessary strain he is taking upon himself in this race to become the next Greatest Detective in the World. It would be better for his health if he didn't exert himself too much. He must know that he is no match for me. Better for everyone if he dropped out quietly.

They say that soon he will come to visit. I know he will want to meet with me. I cannot wait to meet with him. I will study him, and see if there is anything that I must improve upon. I will allow no imperfections. Nothing will stand in my way. I will allow no imperfections.

I will allow no imperfections.


End file.
